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Target shootin' with the Gun Moll of the Revolution

With Looking Glass Eyes

Physical therapy has become my new lifestyle. I dress to stretch. I think about what my abs are doing. Believe me: abs do not always have your back. Sometimes, your abs are too busy – with what, celebrity gossip? – to do their dumb little job, which is right in the middle of everything else. If your abs are slacking off, everyone else gets snippy.

Behold: the secondhand elliptical. We scoured classifieds for months and finally found one nearby and at a very, very reasonable price. Then we zipped around trying to find a way to transport the thing a mile and a half. Things looked bad; things looked worse. Renting a truck seemed stupid when we had wrenches. Then we carried the elliptical in pieces up to the attic, where it sits next to the stationary bike and the rowing machine, both of which we totally use. Tomorrow morning, at a stupid hour when it’s still dark out, I’ll give it a go. Yippee! My hip is totally creaky. My abs will forget about Jessica Simpson.